


Education is the key

by SrebrnaFH



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Howard is a manipulative bastard, MIT, Not Really AU, One Shot, Steve found earlier, Tony is Captain America fanboy, they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SrebrnaFH/pseuds/SrebrnaFH
Summary: Steve Rogers is rescued from the ice earlier than in the MCU timeline and Army decides he needs to  complete his education.Howard Stark suggests MIT. Guess who is going to be Steve's roommate... Or roommates.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Howard Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	Education is the key

**Author's Note:**

> Second plot bunny today. They just have to come when I'm doing chores, right?
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no idea how dorm room assignments work at MIT. I'm assuming Howard would pull strings and Get Stuff Done for him.

“He is _what_?”

“He is unprepared to be an officer. Obviously, we should treat his rank as gained in battle, even though there was some... legal doubt there, but still, even after promotions due to actions in the theatre of war, we usually put our new officers through a full officer training, including any specialised skills they might wish to gain or might need, and so they get their college degree through this. Since currently Captain Rogers -- or rather, Cadet Rogers, as he agreed to take the rank reduction until we clarify the details -- is not needed in any capacity by the Army and his physical shape has improved...”

Howard Stark took off his glasses and wiped them mechanically on his shirt.

“Are you saying that _Captain America_ , and no, I’m not going to call him a Cadet, that sounds idiotic, that _Captain America_ is not good enough to be in the Army? That Army, which has used his good image, lived off the legend and fed its recruits the propaganda with his face on it, that Army thinks _Captain America_ is unfit for his position?”

Agent Fury closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

“All I’m saying, Mr Stark, is that _Cadet Rogers_ requires education. This is what my Army liaison is telling me. It’s also what _Cadet Rogers_ is saying and, if we wish to be fair, we should actually ask the man himself and listen to him. He says he is fine physically and has received a medical go-ahead to leave the base and get to know the world in the lovely year 1990. However, when questioned regarding his education, he explained that he had never received any kind of schooling further than first year of art college. Which is not exactly what Army is looking for, as you may guess. If it was up to me, I’d put him through basic training, dump him in West Point and make him suffer through all that shit all young officers go through, to put him on even level with his so-called peers, but the brass...” Fury rolled his eyes expressively.

“Ah, I see. Higher-ups,” Howard stopped himself from making a face. Generals were the _worst_ to deal with, even for a weapons manufacturer.

“Yeah. They want him in some _proper_ place. Now, since I know that you and Rogers were chums during the war, and you are the only person available right now who can answer my questions... Since director Carter is, very annoyingly, off the grid... What would you suggest? Where should _Cadet Rogers_ apply to?”

Howard glanced at the thick file - one he had had hand in putting together - and back at the strong, menacing looking man sitting opposite.

“Do they have preference?”

“Not art,” Fury snorted. “And probably no soft stuff. I mean, if he decided to pick psychology or sociology, they’d probably make it work, but according to him,” he nodded towards the file, “he wants something technical. He wants to learn how all this newfangled stuff works and wants to learn to build advanced mechanisms.”

“Sounds like automation and robotics,” Howard mused. “Or electrical engineering... or electronics, depending...”

Fury waited silently.

“MIT,” Howard said finally, leaning forwards and replacing the thick file on the desk. “MIT, robotics engineering. Add a shitton of tutoring to bring him up to speed on everyday stuff, put him in a dorm with someone who knows their way around the campus and won’t be overwhelmed by... living with... a celebrity...”

He could feel the cogs turning in his head. Oh. That would be the very best thing. The very best of best things.

“Let me see, it’s April now, so if the submission is made now, MIT will _obviously_ accept him, because, well, _Captain America_ , he will have financial backing from the Army, and he does have his own money, too, managed by SHIELD, so this is not a problem. He will start in September, which gives him four months to be properly prepared for the challenge. Collect high school textbooks, give him everything that a kid would read by the time they’d graduate - assigned reading, current mainstream literature... I’ll make a list. Or have someone--” he trailed off, tapping on the wood of the desk. “Yeah. First, just give him stuff to read. I’ll drop by later -- he didn’t really react very well the last time he saw me, so--”

“He was still in shock after waking up, sir.”

Howard pressed his lips tightly to stop the unhappy grimace. Yes, Steve had not received the news about his long sleep very well and seeing _Howard_ , going grey and wrinkled, working in an office and... sedentary... Well, it didn’t really end happily. Two agents were needed to manage the panic attack, especially since someone had had the bright idea to first try to _lie_ to Steve and make him believe he woke up in the 40s. That was a disaster, plain and simple.

“Very well. He is much more stable now, if you are saying he is discussing his education. So, we can move forward. Have someone deliver the textbooks and, for heaven’s sake, give him a room with a view outside, so he can familiarise himself with the city skyline.”

####

“September, lovely September, Rhodey. Back to the daily grind, back to... what the actual fuck?”

The room they had received keys for was not a double he had been expecting and judging from Rhodey’s expression, the third bed was a surprise for him, too.

Tony took a step back to check the number on the door, but it still matched the key - and the number on his form.

And there were already things next to one of the corner beds, two standard-looking military-style duffles, a backpack, a messenger bag and two thick-taped boxes. The bed itself was made with nearly hospital accuracy - or military one - something that Rhodey occasionally attempted, in his search for military structure in his life, but never managed to gain. There was a leather jacket hanging over it, a longer coat on one of the hooks by the wardrobe and three pairs of highly-polished boots - size ‘very very large’ - lined under it. And one, single photo frame on the bedside table.

Obviously, Tony picked it up.

“Tones, put it back,” Rhodey hissed, his faithful Jiminy Cricket moral sense activated. “That’s private!”

“No it isn’t. He left it out here, so...”

Tony froze.

“Tones? Tones, what the hell?”

“Whoever it is, has strange taste in decoration,” Tony replaced the photo quickly on the little table. “OK, let’s go back to the office and get us assigned to another room. I’m not living for a year with someone who puts up a photo like this on his bedside.”

Rhodey turned the frame to see it better.

“Is this your father? And Aunt Peg?”

“Yup. And Sergeant James Barnes, Howling Commandos. And also the object of my father’s daily ramblings and obsessions, one Steven Grant Rogers, Captain Fucking America, the best human to walk this bloody Earth, so help me God. No way in hell I’m risking spending a _second_ in the company of a Captain America fanboy.”

“Um.”

There was someone with them in the room.

_Fuck._

Probably aforementioned fanboy. He had also probably heard everything Tony had said. Well, fuck it, he should not...

_Pecs that go for miles pink lips blue eyes blond eyebrows who has eyebrows like this shower hair these biceps why is he wearing such a small tshirt fucking hell I_ _’m dying._

“Steve Rogers,” the big man said softly. “Yeah. Well. Not a fanboy, as such, so... I hope you won’t count my _taste in decoration_ against me.”

_Mmmbgh._

“Sir, it’s an honour!” Rhodey, good old Rhodey, straightened to attention. “I’ve attended a lecture regarding the history of...”

“Oh. James Rhodes, right? You’re planning to apply to Air Force, correct?”

_That smile._

“Yes, sir.”

“Since I _think_ we are going to be roommates, I’d actually prefer to be addressed by my name. If possible. Anyway, I’ve been downgraded to a Cadet for the purposes of... whatever it was. So. I’m nearly a civilian anyway now.”

Tony wondered for a moment if it was possible to feel one’s own neuron dying of overload.

“Tones?” Rhodey poked his shoulder. “Tones, did you know about this?”

Tony blinked. Slowly. Squeezed his eyes shut. Rubbed them to get rid of afterimages. Opened them again.

Annoyingly realistic apparition of Captain Fucking America, Steven Grant Rogers, the peak of human fucking perfection, remained in the room.

What was even worse, he actually _was_ really fucking perfect.

_Shit._


End file.
